And You Know That Love is Not Enough
by bj
Summary: I've a grenade with our names scratched on the side, but that's just love. Bright, post "Forget Me Not".


it's: and you know that love is not enough  
by: bj  
in sum: "i imagined ashes and us alone, always us alone, and i've waited on the sidelines all this time--i've a grenade with our names scratched on the side, but that's just love, and you know that love is not enough."  
label: bright.  
legalities: don't own, don't sue.  
i say: bright thing set during the very end of "forget me not", title/summary from "the rat who would be king" by matthew good band.  
etc: bright will give in, he will. he loves his family too much not to.  
  
  
**and you know that love is not enough**  
  
You are mad at Amy, you are, and you're hurt and frustrated and you hate that you can't make Dad smile the way she can--but you like this, too. You _like_ it.  
  
Mom says, you make the popcorn and we'll watch that dummy movie you like, and you say Dumb and Dumber, Mom. She pats your cheek, leaves the kitchen.  
  
You like it.  
  
You like being the good kid, the son they're proud of, the one who thinks of things like antique stethoscopes and thinks to put the bad kid's name on the card. The good son who tries to give his sister credit for things she's forgotten.  
  
You like feeling righteous whenever you see her, feeling the blame well up inside you as you look at her, you like the guilt that passes over her when you try to say as few words as possible, when you stop meeting her eyes.  
  
The suprise in Ephram's eyes every time you ignore her, dismiss her. His slightly admiring smile.  
  
You keep seeing her tense, pointed face in Grandma's living room, her hands spread over her knees, remembering her voice. Her pained sigh--there's something wrong with you, for not understanding. For not giving her everything she wants from you, from Mom and Dad.  
  
You are so mad at Amy.  
  
You don't like being mad at her, she's your little sister and you love her. You like the repercussions of your anger, and you like the way her faith in the world has been shaken.  
  
You like the way she gets to know, now, what it's like when nobody understands, and you won't let yourself want to comfort her. Give her the things you wanted--a hug, a hand in your hair, quiet quiet breathing.  
  
Let her figure out how to survive when no one notices you're hurt. Let her do it by herself.  
  
That's the way she's always liked to do things, anyway.  
  
What hurts the most, really, is that you know this will be over eventually, and then she'll be the good kid again and you'll be not necessarily the bad one, but the other one, the other one who isn't quite good enough to be better. You hate that.  
  
You like knowing that you have some control over how long the movie nights and dinners of your favourite foods last, because your anger is a support of your mother's stubborn overdraft of compassion. You like that she's mad at Amy, in part, because of you. You like that she fought with Dad about what Amy was doing to you.  
  
You don't like knowing, because you do, inside, where you know everything, that in the end it doesn't matter how much it feels like she needs you, like they love you.  
  
And even if it isn't over ever, they'll always be waiting for it to end, always waiting for her to come back, always waiting to push you aside in favour of her.  
  
You slap a hand on the counter, because you've never really taken her place--do you want to--and what you like, what you have right now isn't yours at all, they're only doing it to punish her--see what you had, Amy, see how we're giving it to Bright now, come home and it will be yours again.  
  
Come home and they'll just forget. Even if your mother seems too pissed to ever forgive, you know they'll forget when Amy's alseep in her room again.  
  
You like knowing that she doesn't know it.  
  
It hurts to like it, it hurts every time you stop to think about it and remember that she's your sister, your baby sister. You love her, you do, so much, and you'd do anything for her, you would, you have. You will.  
  
You watch the opening scene and you laugh at the "down under" joke and you know you love your family too much. Enough to get into fights and get suspended, and enough to pretend that things are all right even though the table settings are a quarter short, enough to feel this deep deep anger for them, towards them. Enough to want to cloak them in it, protect them from themselves and each other.  
  
You love them too much for this, and you know that love is not enough.  
  
  
End.  
  



End file.
